


Snowed In

by The_Black_Cat



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Abimel, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, Family Fluff, Hacy, Idiots in Love, Mountains, OverWitch - Freeform, Snowed In, Verachase, idiots being idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Black_Cat/pseuds/The_Black_Cat
Summary: It was supposed to be a peaceful vacation in the mountains. Beautiful scenery, family time and a hot tub didn't sound so bad at first. But what happens when the ownerr of the cabin and Harry's very good friend, who also happens to be the woman Macy hates and Mel finds insanely attractive, gets snowed in with them?ORThe sometimes funny, sometimes romantic and always fluffy peeks into the first Christmas Abigael spent with the Vera-Vaughn-Greenwood family.
Relationships: Abigael Jameson-Caine/Mel Vera, Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn, Jordan Chase/Maggie Vera
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30
Collections: CW Charmed Secret Santa 2020 Event





	Snowed In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wonderwall_mp4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderwall_mp4/gifts).



> Hello there! 
> 
> First of all, I want to say: Jordy, I told you I'd get you for the Secret Santa! Also, I know you love Matchmaker Maggie, but may I introduce Matchmaker Mel!
> 
> Now that that's out of the way, I have a few things I want to say. This was originally 15k words long and I had to take two or three scenes away from the beginning because I didn't want to give you tedious exposition. I wanted it to be even longer, I still have some scenes in mind that I wanted to write for this story, but it's long enough already and I don't have the time. I might come back to the story, or the universe, later on. 
> 
> So, what you should probably know before heading into the story is that this is an alternative universe fic where they have no powers; Hacy are married and Abigael is a businesswoman and Harry's friend from college. There are a few well-known songs mentioned, but I listened to this [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NQ21JfwZQUN8lrL7YfnTS?si=TgRyeWHoTQKX0xAyoae9BQ) while I was writing, feel free to give it a listen. I think that's all the necessary information.
> 
> I took Jordan's prompts of "tooth-rotting found family fluff", "Mel and Jordan bonding" and I tried to put in "there was only one bed", too, but I'm not sure that one is actually fulfilled. 
> 
> Happy Holidays and happy reading!

Letting out a heavy sigh, Abigael walked into the living room. She looked tense and more irritated than Mel remembered seeing her. “The storm won’t stop until late evening if we’re lucky. The mountain patrol won’t be here for three or four days, depending on the weather.”

“So, you’re stuck here,” Maggie deadpanned. When Abigael glared at her, she sipped her rum-infused hot chocolate and gave her best innocent expression.

“Yes, and so are you,” Abigael sighed. “If you had been on time, I would have been gone before the storm hit.”

“Or the storm would have caught you on your way down,” Harry said as he handed her a cup of hot chocolate.

She glared at him, then at the cup in his hands. She took it, huffing, then she walked to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a glass of whiskey. Much like Maggie had, Abigael spiked her chocolate with a generous amount of whiskey. She tasted it, her nose scrunched up a little, then she poured some more whiskey into the cup and put the bottle back. She walked closer to where they were sitting, stopping only about a foot or so away from where Mel sat propped against the armrest.

“Either way, as unfortunate as it is for both parties, it seems I will have to stay here,” Abigael breathed the words out heavily, looking to the ground. Mel had to suppress the sudden urge to give her a comforting hug. “Don’t worry, I won’t hinder your festivities, I have promised you free use of my cabin for the holidays; it is yours to use and celebrate in. I will spend the time in my bedroom, should you need anything. Thank you for the chocolate, Harold. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

They watched as she walked away, back straight and hips swaying less than they usually did. She looked sad and distressed, and Mel wanted to follow after her, to comfort her, to spend time with her. She wanted to take that sadness away, to take that loneliness that she could see in Abigael like a gaping wound, so similar to her own, and throw it out of the window. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. What she wanted didn’t matter that much. She had a family to think about, and that family hated Abigael. There was no way Mel could go after her and keep her family happy at the same time.

“What do we do now?” Maggie asked after a long moment of silence.

“We unpack,” decided Macy, “and we’ll regroup here.”

And so they did. Macy and Harry claimed one of the tow empty rooms as theirs, not that anyone expected anything different. Before an argument could break out over who would get the other room, Jordan offered to sleep on the couch in the living room so that Maggie and Mel could share, but Mel already had a different plan. She set her duffel bag behind one of the sofas, where no one would notice it, already preparing for how she would convince Jordan to stop being an idiot and go after her sister. At first, watching them dance around each other had been cute, but now it was tiresome more than anything and making them share a bedroom with only one bed in it was bound to at least nudge them into figuring things out.

They spent the rest of the day curled up on the sofas, watching Christmas movies, drinking spiked chocolate and laughing. Mel found herself admiring the decorations put around the cabin. Clearly, whoever did them paid a lot of attention to detail. Everything about the decorations screamed Abigael to her, they were elegant and rather minimalistic, but still stylish and quite beautiful in their simplicity. Just a few lights, a few evergreen branches, some pinecones here and there, but it gave the cabin a festive breath.

It was just before midnight when they decided to call it a night. Harry and Macy departed first, with Harry’s hand on Macy’s lower back and Macy grinning as she whispered something into his ear. Next was Maggie, with a yawned ‘goodnight’ and a stretch that made her joints pop loudly.

Jordan and Mel stayed in their seats, Mel still nursing what was left of her chocolate. They stared in front of them, Jordan probably at the TV and Mel at the flames dancing in the fireplace. It was quiet, save for the sounds of the movie, and peaceful. Like the snowfall outside that the storm had subsided into brought calmness into the world like no other.

She turned to face Jordan when she noticed him move out of the corner of her eye. He was palming a blanket, his brows furrowed and a small pout resided on his face. Mel smiled when she realised that he was trying to find the long side.

“Jordan,” she said softly, but the sound of her voice still made him jerk a little before he looked at her, dark eyes wide, staring at her from under his still-furrowed brows. “Go to bed.”

“Well, I am—”

“No. I mean, go to bed. To Maggie.”

He frowned even more, but the bashful way he lowered his head was enough to cement Mel’s determination. “I can’t—I won’t. I—I can’t go to her, I mean, it’s a room where she expects to have her privacy, I can’t just barge in and take that away. No, I’ll stay here, you go.”

“Jordan. You are a smart, respectful and very lovely man,” Mel said with a kind smile, “and I consider you a close friend. But watching you and Maggie dance around each other is honest to god the worst thing in the world! You’re both so oblivious!”

“Wha—what are you talking about?”

“Okay,” she sighed. She straightened up and turned a little to face him. “Maggie will probably kill me for this, but if I have to spend one more day watching you being oblivious and in love, I’ll probably kill myself, so… Jordan. It’s obvious you two love each other.”

Jordan looked like he was about to protest, but then he just hung his head low. “Yeah, I’m her friend.”

“Yes, and you’re so much more to her than that.”

“But I—I can’t just barge into her room! That’s not…”

“I know. But you need to talk to her. Tell her how you feel.”

His eyes widened comically. “How do you know?”

She tried to suppress her laughter at that, but a small chuckle still made it out. “A blind person could see how in love with her you are. It’s nauseating sometimes.”

He chuckled, too, a short and humoured sound, but it quickly died out. “How can I not? She’s… everything. But I can’t risk our friendship just to hear her say she doesn’t want me.”

“There is no way she would ever say that,” Mel assured quickly. “She loves you just as much as you love her. And she has the same doubts you do; she doesn’t want to ruin your friendship. But you won’t. If you just talk to her, it’s all going to work out.”

“I wanted to tell her,” he admitted quietly. He looked sad under the soft glow of the Christmas lights. “So many times… I always talked myself into it, but then I looked at her and she… I chickened out.”

“Okay, here’s the plan. You go to her right now—”

“I can’t just go in there to sleep with her!”

“I’m not saying you sleep with her! Well, not in that sense. Not that that would be bad, but…” she cut herself off and took in a deep breath to compose herself. “Just go to her. Talk to her. And I promise I’ll keep a blanket here for you if you do chicken out.”

“Okay, yeah,” he nodded, a look of determination slowly crawling onto his face. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll… I’ll probably chicken out again, but I… yeah. Thanks, Mel. It’s nice to know I have you in my corner.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “You’re a good and respectful person and I know I can trust you with my sister. And she obviously loves you, and there’s no stopping Maggie once she sets her mind on something.”

“Seems you Vera women have that in common.”

She smiled at that and took a sip of her chocolate, unsure of what to say to that.

“You know, you should try and get your act together, too,” Jordan said after a short moment, his words soft but stubborn.

She frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You should tell her.”

“I have nothing to say to her. Abigael’s an annoying pain in all of our asses, that’s all.”

Jordan smiled softly. “I didn’t even say her name and you instantly thought of her. What do you think that means?”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She knew exactly what it meant, she knew what it meant that her heart started beating faster whenever Abigael’s name was mentioned, she knew what it meant that her mind wandered to her at random times of the day, she knew what it meant that she looked forward to spending time with her despite Abigael doing her best to annoy her. She knew, but it didn’t matter because Abigael was just using her to get a few laughs and that was it. There was no way in hell that Abigael would ever want something with Mel. Maybe just a one-night stand, she did seem like that kind of person, but Mel had far too much respect for herself to let her emotions guide her there.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Jordan said, bringing Mel out of her thoughts. “If I manage to ask Maggie out before our stay in this cabin is over, you have to ask Abigael on a date.”

“Deal,” she said without thinking. The wager would give Jordan even more reasons to man up and ask out her baby sister, and Mel would find a way to get out of her end of it. Or she would suffer the humiliation of being rejected by Abigael Jameson-Caine.

She really should have thought that through.

“Okay,” Jordan smiled at her, but it was accompanied by a nervous shake of his hands and a somewhat sour expression. “I’m going. Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it. Just be yourself.”

He breathed out, then sucked a quick breath in, nodding his head. “Yeah. Easy. No biggie.”

“Jordan. I know love can be scary, but,” Mel gave him the most encouraging smile she could. “It’s just Maggie. You’ve talked to her thousands of times, about your thoughts and emotions and ideas and worries... This is no different! You’ve got this!”

He stood up, swaying on the balls of his feet a little, gave her a thumbs-up and a slightly crooked smile and slowly made his way to the stairs and up. She watched him, a small smile on her lips until she lost sight of him. Chuckling to herself, Mel placed the almost-finished cup of chocolate onto the coffee table and went to change into her pyjamas. This was going to be a long and tiring stay, no matter the outcome of Maggie and Jordan’s conversation.

* * *

Jordan knocked on the door and waited. And waited. And waited. There was no sound coming from the inside. Maybe Maggie was already asleep? She had spiked her chocolate with enough rum to put a girl her size into a coma and Jordan was more than just mildly impressed by her tolerance, but it must have had an effect on her. Yeah, she was probably asleep already. He should just go back to the living room and get some sleep.

“Jordan! What are you doing here?”

He whirled around to find Maggie wrapped in a fluffy, white bathrobe, with the ends of her pink, polka-dotted pyjama pants peeking out, with her hair still wet from the shower and her lips turned up in a smile. She looked beautiful in the dim lights in the hallway. She always looked beautiful.

“Sorry,” he offered with an awkward smile. “Mel—”

“Bullied you into switching places with her? Yeah, I saw her bag behind the sofa,” Maggie nodded, the smile on her face turning a bit secretive. “But don’t tell her. If she thinks she’s stealthy now, she won’t want to improve and then I can find out all sorts of things about her. C’mon.”

She pushed past him and into the room, leaving the door open for him. He followed, slowly, unsure. He could feel his knees trembling.

“Did you know these rooms have roof windows?” Maggie asked. Jordan watched as she went about the room, grabbed a cream from the vanity and proceeded to rub some into her cheeks, then he looked at the ceiling. There was a large glass pane right above the bed, that was covered with wood from the outside, to protect the glass from the snow, he presumed. There was also a switch above the bedside table.

“I don’t think it’s going to mean much with all the snow.”

“Yeah,” Maggie sighed, looking up. “It would be nice, though. To see the stars. I bet you could see the Milky Way from here. There’s no light pollution or anything.”

Jordan hummed. “You know a lot about stars?”

“A bit. Dad used to sit with me on the back porch and show me the visible constellations, told me stories and legends about them.”

“That sounds nice.”

Maggie smiled a little before she discarded the robe and sat down onto the bed. “It was. I loved sitting out with him. He always bundled me up in his jacket so that I wouldn’t get too cold. When he left, I… I would sit on the stairs at night and watch the stars. It didn’t matter how cold it was outside. I remember one time, I stayed out there so long my fingers were blue by the time mom got me to go in.”

“Wow. You must have missed him very much.”

“I guess every kid who loses a parent misses them.”

“When I was a kid,” Jordan said as he slowly made his way to where Maggie was to sit next to her, “I missed my dad like crazy. But I understood that he was dead and that he wouldn’t be coming back. Having someone walk out of your life, promising they will be back but they never keep that promise… that could break a kid.”

“It definitely cracked me. That’s partly where my anxiety comes from,” she let out a small chuckle when she said that, but there was sadness in her words. It made Jordan’s heart squeeze. He was here to tell her that he loved her and instead he made her sad by talking about her father! Mel would kick his ass if she heard them. “But I had an amazing support system. Mel was—wait, I was five, so she was, uhh, twelve!—yeah, she was twelve when he left and understood things I didn’t. She hated him for leaving and for not coming back when he promised me he would. She… she made not having a dad much easier. She even took to sitting with me in the back porch. She would always take off her hoodie and give it to me because I would always forget mine… She showed me the stars like dad used to and told me stories. I remember not liking her stories at first because dad used to tell of princesses who were saved by handsome and smart princes and Mel’s stories were about girls who could save themselves and even saved the princes while they were at it.”

They both chuckled at that and when Maggie looked at him, her eyes both sad and happy at the same time, with that dimpled smile on her face and with her hair still wet, he realised that they didn’t need to talk about love right now. This wasn’t a high school movie or a once-in-a-lifetime chance. This was Maggie. His friend, the courageous, formidable woman he had fallen in love with. And there would be plenty of other opportunities for him to tell her how much he loved her. They could talk about other things. After all, understanding and memories were the foundations of love.

“Which stories do you like more now?” he asked, out of both curiosity and desire to learn more about her.

She frowned at that a little. “I… Dad’s stories were pretty and they always had a happy ending. That was nice to hear and I sometimes think back to them when I’m sad. The stories Mel told me were raw and sometimes very sad. Many of them didn’t end happily. But they were the closest thing to truth anyone could give to a five-years-old with anxiety, and… Mel’s always been there for me. She’s overbearing and manipulative and controlling, but she’s… she’s my older sister. My shield. And the stories she told me, while not as pretty as dad’s were, taught me a lot, even when I was a kid.”

Jordan hummed at that. “Which one was your favourite?”

“I think…” Maggie said, looking down at the duvet they were sitting on. Jordan looked down, too, to find her drawing what looked like a crooked cross into the cover. “I think I like Mel’s story about the Swan constellation the most.”

“Would you mind telling me?”

She smiled brightly. She flopped down onto the bed, pulling him to lie next to her, and told him the story of the Swan. Jordan listened to every word, captivated by her.

Neither of them knew when they fell asleep, side by side.

* * *

They spent the entire morning outside. The snowfall had died down during the night and they were left with more than twenty inches of fresh snow that they could get crazy in. First, they wanted to make the largest snowman they could, but that turned into making a snow bunker, which in turn gave birth to the amazing idea that they’d have a snowball fight. Harry excused himself before lunchtime to go and prepare some food and the rest split into two teams—Mel and Jordan against Macy and Maggie. Jordan’s military training helped them devise different strategies which Mel then bombed with her recklessness, but they still managed to win most of the rounds, mostly because Macy was too busy making the snowballs look perfect and Maggie had a very bad aim.

When they finally stumbled their way inside, way past lunchtime because they couldn’t bring themselves to stop fooling around, they were cold and wet and Maggie had to take off her shirt to get out the snow that Mel managed to shove under her clothes.

Macy and Maggie decided to occupy the kitchen after their belated lunch—Macy was adamant about baking some cookies and Maggie couldn’t wait to get started on coquito—and the rest of them camped in the living room. Jordan found the gaming console and he proceeded to destroy Harry in Mario Cart. Mel watched them sitting on the floor, just a few feet away from the huge TV, controllers in hands, talking and yelling and laughing. They looked like little boys playing videogames after school.

Mel curled up on the sofa and watched them, but her mind wandered. True to her word, Abigael had stayed in the master bedroom and they hadn’t heard a peep from her since the day before. Mel wondered for a moment if Abigael had even eaten. Of course, she had, Mel told herself, this was her cabin and Abigael had enough confidence to take a beer out of the fridge at the Vera manor with just a glance as asking for permission, she wouldn’t hesitate to raid her own fridge. Still, it was strange that the usually confident woman who always acted like she owned the world stayed in her room the whole time. Abigael liked teasing people and she liked getting on Mel’s nerves, specifically. It was strange knowing that she was in the cabin with them but not having her near, not hearing her voice, not engaging in a conversation or a debate with her. 

It made Mel itch to go out there and find her. To bring her down here, to have her attention and her company when both Macy and Harry, and Jordan and Maggie got into their own little worlds and Mel was left alone with her thoughts, listening to their conversations but not really being a part of either of them. Or to just stay in that room, take a book out of those enormous, fully-stocked bookshelves that she’d seen there and read in comfortable silence, talk and debate anything from literature to social problems to something as dumb as which dog breed is better despite neither of them having dogs.

“Look what we got!” Maggie announced as she walked into the living room with a tray of glasses full of coquito and with Macy in her tow, carrying two plates of cookies.

“Ooh, yeah!” Jordan grinned and let the controller fall to the floor. He scrambled from the floor in a haste and managed to steal a cookie before Macy had the chance to place them onto the coffee table. “Macy, these are amazing!”

“Thank you!” Macy smiled, her hands fidgeting a little like they usually did when she wasn’t sure what to do.

“Indeed, love, these are delicious,” Harry agreed. With the smile on his face and one of his cheeks puffed up with the cookie, he looked like an overly excited hamster. “Would you mind if I brought some up to Abigael? I’m sure she would appreciate that.”

Macy visibly stiffened, her eyes going between Harry and the cookies so fast Mel doubted she even saw anything.

“It is the nice thing to do,” Maggie agreed quietly.

“Doesn’t she only drink whiskey?” Macy asked dryly.

“Mace,” Maggie said quietly. “She let us stay here and she didn’t even step foot out of her room the whole time. Maybe we could make a peace offering, too.”

“Fine. Whatever. There are more cookies in the kitchen.”

“I can take them up if you want,” Mel offered. She could see the look Jordan gave her out of the corner of her eye, but she ignored him. This was about keeping Macy in a good mood, which meant keeping Harry away from Abigael, Mel’s curiosity about their usually annoying host was just a secondary reason.

Good thing she’d gotten so good at lying to herself when she was a teenager.

When nobody protested, she took it as a go-ahead and went to the kitchen to prepare the cookies and the coquito.

“What will we do today?” Jordan asked excitedly. “Wanna play some Mario Kart, ladies?”

“I have a better idea!” Maggie proclaimed. There was some rustling for a few moments, just long enough for Mel to get everything done and look back through the archway that connected the living room and the kitchen. Maggie was kneeling in front of one of the cabinets, grinning and holding up wireless microphones. “Karaoke!”

The sound of everyone cheering covered up Mel’s disappointed groan. She could have destroyed them in any battle royale game, but anything that had to do with music was her Achilles’ heel.

Steeling herself, Mel walked up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom. She gripped the tray in her hands more and more with each step until her knuckles were white and she couldn’t tell whether her hands were shaking from the cramps she got in her fingers or the nerves.

It only took a moment for the door to open after she knocked. And there stood Abigael, in black fitting jeans and sweater, hair pulled up into a messy bun and one eyebrow raised in question.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” Mel said quietly, trying to keep her eyes on Abigael’s face. She failed, several times, because the clothes just hugged Abigael’s lithe body perfectly and strands of her hair framed her face, and the soft, yellowish light from the Christmas decorations in the hallway made her usually pale skin glow and Mel found it difficult to take a breath and keep her eyes from wandering.

“To what do I owe this annoyance?” Abigael asked, looking over Mel pointedly, a small smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes shone with greenish-hazel mischief and glee like she was already enjoying the little time she had to torment Mel a little.

“Actually, I brought you these,” Mel offered the tray in her hands, her movements a bit jerky with how hard she was gripping it.

“Ooh, biscuits and—let me guess, coquito?”

“How did you…”

“You’re Puerto Rican, I doubt you’d drink boring old eggnog on Christmas.”

Mel frowned. “How do you know that?”

“You told me,”

“And you listen to what I say?”

“Sometimes,” Abigael smirked. She took the tray from Mel, her long fingers brushing over Mel’s hands as she did, and took a step back. “I hope you didn’t destroy my kitchen making these.”

“I didn’t make them. Macy did.”

“Oh. Then maybe you should come in with me and test them for poison,” Abigael smirked, cocking her head to the side a little.

Mel’s body moved forward on its own accord, just an inch, but it was enough for both of them to notice and realise what it meant. Mel wanted to come inside Abigael’s room. She wanted to spend time with her. But then she looked back down the hallway from where joyous and victorious cheers were coming, mixed together with the amplified voice of Maggie, trying out the mics.

Sighing, Mel turned back to Abigael. “Sorry. They decided on karaoke and I doubt they’re going to be quiet about it.”

Abigael’s shoulder jerked a little as if she wanted to shrug. “Don’t worry about it. You came here to let loose, and that’s one way to do it. Granted, it’s not the most enjoyable one, but there’s no accounting for taste, I suppose.”

Mel nodded. They stood there for a short moment, the silence between them tense, as if neither wanted to step back but neither knew what to say.

“Uhm, you could join us, if you want,” Mel offered a little awkwardly. “We have more cookies and coquito, and I’m pretty sure there are about ten different kinds of snacks down there by now.”

“While all that sounds tempting, I don’t think your sisters would appreciate me there.”

Mel pointed to the glass sitting comfortably on the tray. “Maggie tends to overdo it with rum. They won’t even know who they are by the third glass, let alone who is with them.”

“As much as I’d like to see that,” Abigael smiled the smallest of smiles, “I still have to go over some reports.”

“The day before Christmas?”

“Not everybody celebrates Christmas, Princess,” Abigael let the nickname roll off of her tongue like she always did, with a teasing smirk and a playful challenge in her eyes. That particular nickname was only reserved for when Abigael wanted to tease more than provoke, and it always got a rise out of Mel, although she could hide that reaction better now that she had at first. “Maybe I will join you later. If you’ve been a good girl, that is.”

Mel rolled her eyes at that, but she couldn’t stop the chuckle. “Really? Last time I checked, Santa didn’t put bad girls under the Christmas tree for good girls to find.”

“Perhaps he should start with that,” Abigael smiled that Cheshire cat smile of hers, “I’m sure a good girl would help me get off of the naughty list more than a lump of coal ever could.”

The words that dropped slow and sweet like honey made a shiver run up Mel’s spine and the way Abigael’s eyes bored into hers intensely made her belly flutter. Mel let out a shaky breath and wet her lips, and Abigael’s eyes moved down to follow that motion. Maybe she could go into Abigael’s room for some cookies, just for a few minutes. She wondered what coquito would taste like on Abigael’s lips.

Clearing her throat, Mel looked down. She shouldn’t be thinking that. It was Christmas, she was supposed to be with her sisters, who would no doubt go and search for her if she doesn’t get downstairs in the next couple of minutes. “I-ah, I’d better get going. Make sure they don’t kill each other trying to pick who will sing first.”

Abigael chuckled at that. “We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

Mel took a step back, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans to stop herself from fidgeting. “The offer still stands. Join in whenever you want. They will probably say something about that, but they won’t mind that much.”

“We shall see.”

Nodding, Mel turned around and made her way down the hall. When the turned her head to look back, she found Abigael still at the door, eyes firmly on her, holding the tray at her hip with one hand and a cookie that she was nibbling on with the other.

* * *

When she got to the living room, she found Harry coming in with another tray of glasses filled with coquito. He looked at her apologetically and offered a “they didn’t want to wait” as an explanation.

“Woo, Mel!” Maggie grinned. She rushed over to her and wrapped an arm around Mel’s neck. “What should we sing first? We didn’t want to sing without you!”

“You know I don’t sing,” Mel sighed, but she didn’t push her sister away.

“And I still don’t know why! C’mon, we’ll make it a Vera-Vaughn sisters trio!”

“Okay, you know what? Why don’t you guys,” Mel wriggled from Maggie’s grasp, “go and sing and I’ll choose the songs, huh?”

Maggie narrowed her eyes at her. “Only if you don’t choose old people music.”

“Go.”

“Okay, Vera-Vaughn sisters duet first!” Jordan cheered as he sat down onto one of the sofas. He reached over to grab himself a glass, then he looked at Mel conspiratorially. “Put on All I Want for Christmas, they would kill that song.”

“Please, I’ve heard it enough on the radio yesterday, we’re not playing that,” Mel protested. In front of the TV that was now connected to Maggie’s phone, her sisters were arguing about which song to sing first. Harry brought them their drinks in an effort to stop the light-hearted argument and Mel chose that time to put on a song. They both squealed when they realised what it was, downed their drinks and got to singing. About half-way through the song, they started dancing, making up the steps as they went, and it resulted in a very uncoordinated but hilarious display.

She put on another song for them, and this time Harry joined them, completely ignoring the white coquito line above his upper lip. Jordan took that time to plop himself down next to her. “My respect to you, you broke them up amazingly fast.”

Mel only laughed it off. “Years of practice.”

Jordan only hummed. “Why aren’t you out there, singing with them?”

“Singing talent must have come from their dad,” Mel offered in an explanation. Jordan seemed to understand as he nodded and proceeded to watch Maggie with the same loving infatuation Harry usually had for Macy. “So, I noticed you didn’t get back here last night.”

“Yeah, we… we talked and fell asleep,” he said. The wide grin that split his face was nauseatingly sweet. “We didn’t talk about, you know, _that_ , but we talked and… I feel like we’re getting closer.”

“The only way you two can get closer than you already are is something I don’t want to think about my sister doing.”

Jordan laughed a bit awkwardly. “Yeah, that’s eh… I’ll talk to her. I know I will. It just wasn’t the right time yet.”

“You just chickened out.”

“I totally chickened out,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“C’mon, how difficult is it? You just open your mouth and talk to her! That’s no brain surgery!”

“Right, so what’s your excuse for not having talked to Abigael yet?”

Mel leaned further into the sofa. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“You and Maggie adore each other so much it’s painful to watch. Abigael is just a pain in my butt.”

“But you still like her,” Jordan pointed out, staring at her pointedly from under his thick eyebrows.

Mel sighed and took a sip of her drink. She did like her. And how could she not? Abigael was funny and intelligent and unafraid to speak her mind and she challenged Mel to be better. She was… most of the things Mel wanted in a woman, really.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mel decided after a moment. “I’m not what she wants. And you should be focusing on Maggie, not me and my non-existent love life.”

“Hey. We look out for each other, right? You cheer on me; I cheer on you.”

Mel couldn’t help the chuckle that left her throat at that. “Yeah. That’s what we do. Now get in there, you’re singing solo next!”

“Solo?”

“They need some time to get a refill. And we have the whole evening, you’ll get your chance to sing with her, don’t worry.”

“Fine,” Jordan laughed, shaking his head. “I can never figure you Vera sisters out.”

“It wouldn’t be as much fun if you could,” Mel pointed out with a smile.

“You sure you don’t want to join in? I could use a singing partner.”

“Something tells me that you and everyone here would like to keep their hearing. But thanks for the offer.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Go, your song is starting!”

They continued like that for a few hours. Mel chose the songs and made sure that everyone had their drinks and that snacks were on the table while the rest sang and danced around the spacious living room. Rocking ‘Round the Christmas Tree played about five times, as did Jingle Bell Rocks. Maggie even made a TV worthy performance of singing You’re A Mean One, Mr Grinch that everyone laughed at and applauded.

Mel was buzzed and the others were somewhere between tipsy and drunk, and they were all happy, laughing and goofing around. She noticed Harry made his way out of the living room, carrying a tray of empty glasses, as Macy and Maggie started singing Frosty the Snowman. She wondered if he went to check on Abigael. She understood why Abigael didn’t want to join them, she didn’t exactly like most of them and they were having a family time, and Abigael wasn’t family. Plus, Macy still kind of hated her and Maggie wasn’t fond of her, either. And while Abigael usually didn’t seem to mind the hostility, Mel was certain she didn’t want to be subjected to it on Christmas. Still, she wished Abigael was there. Maybe with enough coquito, they could get her to sing a carol or two, or dance. Maybe they could get Macy to bury the war hatchet while they were at it.

Mel took a sip of her drink to conceal the sad, wistful smile that made its way onto her face. That would be a nice Christmas.

* * *

Harry took in a deep breath before he entered the kitchen. He knew he would find her there, that’s why he went to get refills. Abigael was sitting there, at the table, nursing a glass of whiskey and stealing glances at Mel through the archway. She looked almost bored and anyone else might have thought that she was annoyed by the presence of the Vera-Vaughns in her abode. But Harry knew her. He could see how shoulders lacked their usual, tense squareness, how her eyebrows weren’t as frowned as they usually were, how her eyes were soft and warm like a hazel fire instead of filled with their usual, icy sharpness.

Her eyes hardened a little bit when she lifted them to meet his. “Is the wife dearest boring you already?”

Harry wanted to smile when he saw her cattish eyes flick back to Mel for a second before they fell to her whiskey. He placed the tray down onto the counter and sat opposite her. “I thought you’d appreciate a talk.”

“You talked, I appreciate it, you can return to your sickeningly sweet family shenanigans and leave me to my whiskey.”

Ignoring the flat remark, Harry looked at her pointedly. She eyed him with only mild annoyance in her eyes that went away as soon as her head turned, almost instinctively, to look at Mel. Then, as if she just realised what she was doing, she turned back to look at him.

“What would be so important as to take you away from your darling wife and into my devilish company?”

“I know what you’re doing,” Harry declared.

She looked him up and down, stubborn and defiant but still with that confident laziness. “Indeed? I thought I was just having a nice drink by myself, but apparently, you know better. Do enlighten me.”

“Always coming over just to talk to her,” Harry sent a meaningful look Mel’s way to let Abigael know who he was talking about, even though something told him she already knew. “Always trying your hardest to make her angry…”

“Now, Harold, you know she has a short fuse. I don’t try to make her angry, she just…gets angry,” Abigael shrugged, smirking, but Harry could see the happy little twitch in the corner of her mouth and the way her eyes shone with excitement.

“Don’t try to lie to me, Abigael, I know you,” Harry said with all the seriousness he could muster. “I know how you think. You want her to think about you and you know that if you make her angry, that’s exactly what she’ll be doing.”

“Why in the world would I want that?”

“Because you have feelings for her.”

Abigael scoffed. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I know you, Abigael. I’ve seen you go after people. I’ve seen you have flings and one-night stands. I’ve seen how you treat people you just want to shag,” Harry reminded, leaning a bit closer to her. “And you are nothing like that with her. You come over whenever you can, you take any opportunity you can to just be near her. You always place yourself by her side. You do things because she asks you to. And don’t even get me started on all this!”

“What?” she challenged. He was getting to her, he could see it in her eyes, in the way her lips were pressed together, in the way she was holding her glass, like her hand was locked up in a cramp.

Harry gestured at everything around them. “This! You couldn’t care less about the holidays, but you still put in the effort to decorate because you knew she was coming over!”

Instead of responding, Abigael took a long sip of her drink.

“I know you,” Harry repeated, this time more calmly, and he looked at Mel, sitting on the sofa and talking with Jordan. “She’s been through a lot. She doesn’t deserve getting her heart broken because you’re not used to having feelings.”

“If this is a shovel talk, you’re doing a splendidly bad job of it.”

“I’m certain her sisters will want to give you that talk themselves.”

“What’s the point of this, then?”

“I love her like my family,” Harry said easily.

Abigael let out a quiet chuckle at that. “She is your family, Mr Greenwood-Vaughn.”

A stupidly happy grin spread on Harry’s face as it always did when his relationship with Macy was pointed out. But then he schooled his expression into a more serious one, as if he remembered what they were talking about. “I’ve seen her go through terrible heartbreak and I don’t want her to have to go through that again. But… I know you… You’ve never been like this with anyone. She could break your heart, too. But she could be good for you, and you for her.”

“Just say what you want to say, Harold.”

Harry nodded sombrely. “I’m going back to them. And I’m pretty sure she’ll be lonely in there with Maggie and Jordan in their own world and Macy and I… If you mean it seriously with her, if you want more from her than just a cheap thrill… I think she would like your company in there.”

Abigael’s eyes flicked to where Mel was sitting with a hopeful gleam in them, but then she caught herself and returned her gaze to her glass. “I think you largely overestimate your wife’s sister’s tolerance of me.”

Harry stood up, then he leaned closer to her. “I think you largely underestimate Mel’s enjoyment of your company. When you don’t come over for a few days, she gets very fidgety, she walks around the house looking for you, and she asks about you sometimes. I think she wants you just as much as you want her. But think carefully about what you do. You’re my friend and I love you, but if you break her heart, I won’t stop her sisters from tearing you a new one. So if you don’t think you can commit to her the way she deserves, don’t go in there.”

She watched as he turned around and started walking before she spoke up. “I’ve never had to deal with this. I’ve never felt… what do I do?”

Harry turned to her, giving her one of his kind, supportive smiles. “Do what feels right. For you and for her. Just think about what you want, it’ll come to you.”

“I want her. I want everything with her.”

“Well then… I think you know what to do,” he nodded a little, then he left her alone with her thoughts. She needed to figure it out on her own.

It didn’t even occur to him that he completely forgot about the refills.

* * *

“Hey, why so blue?” Jordan asked when he plopped himself down next to her. Mel’s eyes flicked to the stairs that led upstairs for a second, but it was enough for Jordan to notice. “She’s in the kitchen. I think she’s trying to get drunk.” He grimaced. “You could go talk to her. Maybe you’d even get her to join us.”

“It wouldn’t help anything. She doesn’t want to be here and my sisters don’t want her here.”

“Maybe you’d be surprised.”

She let out a chuckle but didn’t respond.

“Okay, no, I can’t watch this. C’mon,” he stood up and held out his hand to her.

“I’m not going to talk to her.”

“Maybe not right now. But I don’t want to see you moping. C’mon, we’re dancing!”

“Jordan—” she went to protest but he cut her off.

“It’s your Christmas, too. You’re having fun. C’mon!”

She wanted to tell him to ask Maggie, but there was a part of her that wanted to get in there, to be a part of the fun. Shaking her head at herself, and him, Mel placed her drink down and took his hand. She could hear her sisters’ loud cheering and whistling and she laughed at them, and at herself. Jordan was right. It was her Christmas, too, she should enjoy it in the company of people she loved.

Just as they got to the open space that now served as a dance floor, Macy and Maggie started singing Secret Santa. The Latino rhythm of the song gave both Mel and Jordan a slight pause, but Jordan quickly caught on, his steps light and the hand on her waist gentle in leading her. He purposefully exaggerated some of his steps, poking his tongue out at her and making silly faces when she glared at him because she had to move faster and take more steps than he did. The faces he pulled made her laugh so much she completely missed the beat of the song and soon enough, Jordan just jumped around her while she laughed her heart out, and her sisters missed the whole bridge of the song because they couldn’t stop laughing at them.

By the time the song ended, their bellies hurt from laughing and they had trouble catching their breaths.

“Wait, wait, I can’t,” Mel managed to wheeze out through fits of laugher.

“Wha—what do you mean you can’t?” Jordan laughed beside her. “You can spar with me for an hour straight but you can’t dance for more than three minutes?”

“You made me laugh!” she accused. “If you have enough energy, go sing something.”

“What song?”

Without a word, Mel walked over to Maggie’s phone, still chuckling, and put on a song for him. Jordan’s eyes widened happily when he realised what the song was, he took the mic from Maggie, winking at her, then he turned to Mel. “I want to dedicate this song to one of the most fabulous women I know. Melanie Vera, you’re an extraordinary person and a dear friend, and I love you with all my heart, as much as a dumb guy can love his lesbian best friend.”

“You’re drunk, Jordan!” Mel pointed out, but she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face.

“Yeah, I am,” he agreed easily. He looked like he wanted to say something more but the verse came on and he started singing his heart out.

Mel sat down and let out a long breath. Before she could wind down, however, the sofa dipped next to her under Maggie’s weight.

“Are you sure he’s not in love with you?” she asked, her words clear and just a little sharp for someone who’d drunk as much coquito as she had.

Mel chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

“That’s not what I—” Maggie protested, but Macy, who sat down at Mel’s other side, cut her off.

“Mags. We’re not blind. And he might love Mel as his lesbian best friend, but he would bend over backwards for you if you asked.”

Maggie’s eyes turned to Jordan, both hopeful and doubtful at the same time. “Wouldn’t he have asked me out already?”

“He doesn’t know how much you pine after him,” Mel said, “even though I don’t know how someone can miss that—”

“You pine after Abigael just as much!” Maggie accused quickly.

Mel ignored the remark. Her feelings for Abigael were not important now. This trip was about Harry and Macy’s first Christmas as a married couple and about helping Jordan get the courage he needed to ask Maggie out. She could analyse and try to bury her feelings for Abigael after this whole thing was over.

“He doesn’t want to lose your friendship. And he respects you too much. So go out there, sing with him. Hopefully, one of you will grow a pair sometime in the next hundred years.”

“You’re one to talk! When are you going to ask Abigael out?” Maggie countered.

“Stop going on about it, it won’t happen! Now get out there!” Mel pushed at her sister’s arm gently. Maggie glared at her a little, but she went over to Jordan who gave her the widest smile imaginable.

“You know,” Macy voiced quietly, unsurely, “if you really like her and think she’s good enough for you, you should go for it.”

Mel just stared at her, bewildered. Macy hated Abigael and perhaps she had a right to, so it made no sense that she of all people would push Mel into her arms. And yet, here she was, earnest, if a bit uncomfortable, doing just that. She didn’t meet Mel’s eyes, but there was a resolve in her face.

“Obviously, you know that; you’ve never let what other people think stop you before. I just… you don’t have to feel bad because of me. I will always be mistrustful of her, but if you think she’s good for you, then… I think it might be worth a shot.”

Mel’s stomach clenched. This was the most sisterly thing Macy had said to her in a while, and she was overcome with the sudden urge to hug her. But before she could do anything, she noticed Harry walking into the room. Mel jerked her head in his direction. “And I think your husband is looking for you.”

Macy’s eyes sparkled happily at the mention of Harry.

Despite the cold pang of envy and loneliness, Mel smiled. “Go to him. It’s your Christmas, make the most of it.”

Macy needed no more encouragement. She leapt from her seat and made a beeline for Harry, wrapping her hands around him as soon as she reached him. Mel waved at Jordan who was talking to Maggie and put on a song. Both Jordan and Maggie grinned at her, a similar conspiratory glint in their eyes, as soon as the first tones of Silver Bells came on. Mel then glared a little at Harry and pointed him to the space that served as a dance floor.

Harry looked to his wife, that stupid, loving, happy smile on his face, and whispered something. They wrapped their hands around each other and started swaying just as the first chorus came on. Harry slowly led them to the middle of the dance floor, swaying and hugging, with goofy smiles on their faces. Maggie and Jordan sang together, shoulder to shoulder, swaying to the beat of the song as well, going between watching Harry and Macy and looking at each other.

Mel smiled despite how her throat clenched. Jordan was wrong, this was their Christmas. They should enjoy it.

Deciding to take a break from them, Mel stood up and made her way to the archway, fully intending to lock herself in the bathroom for an hour or so. But before she could get any further, she was stopped by a lithe body clad in all black. Her knees locked up. She wasn’t expecting that.

“They’re just as terrible at dancing as they had been at their wedding,” Abigael remarked, slow like drops of honey. Mel instinctively looked back at where Macy and Harry still danced, completely ignoring the world and the music around them, lost in each other. It was sweet that they could do that, Mel thought, forget everything and everyone and just be together in the moment, like two love-struck fools.

“I don’t know if they’re ignoring the music purposefully or if they just don’t hear the rhythm,” Abigael continued.

Mel gave her a sideways glance. “Like you could do better.”

Abigael quirked one perfect eyebrow. “Are you challenging me?”

“I didn’t see you dancing at the wedding. Maybe you’re an even worse dancer than Harry,” Mel pushed, setting her chin high up and smirking. There was something in Abigael’s eyes, Mel had seen it there before, like sparkles of… joy? Mischief? Mel couldn’t name it, but whatever it was, it lit up Abigael’s eyes and, in turn, made Mel’s knees weak.

Abigael waited until the song ended, then she, with a little guidance from Jordan found Maggie’s phone. She found a song, nodded her head, and as soon as she put it on, she put the phone away and offered her hand to Mel.

It took Mel a moment to recognise the song as The Christmas Waltz, and as soon as she did, the implication clicked in her head and she took half a step back. “Oh, no. I’m not doing this.”

“I need a partner,” Abigael reasoned easily, “and it would be much easier to thwart your challenge if you’re out there with me. Unless you’re afraid that you can’t dance, that is.”

Mel knew she was being baited, she could see it in the sparkle in Abigael’s hazel eyes, in the way her smirk was irritating, confident and all too knowing, but there was something about her that didn’t let Mel even think about keeping her cool and not rising up to it. Abigael always had that effect on her, she always brought out Mel’s fire in the best, most enjoyable ways imaginable. Even now, she could feel the familiar heat rising to her cheeks and the tickling in her stomach.

Abigael’s hand was soft and warm against her own when she took it. The long, slender fingers closed around her own and before she knew it, she was only an inch away from Abigael’s body, with her hand firmly, gently placed on Mel’s lower back. And then, Abigael moved, her hands gently leading Mel into motion with her. The months she had spent in dancing classes years ago because Maggie had wanted to go came rushing back to her, her body responded willingly to the movements, almost as if by instinct.

The steps were familiar, although Mel wasn’t particularly fond of dancing, and she followed them with the soft, persistent guidance from Abigael’s hand on her lower back. Abigael’s movements were smooth and fluid, confident, like a professional dancer, and Mel was suddenly worried because while she did know the steps, she didn’t know how to move like that. For the first few moments, Mel was only looking at her feet and focusing on not stepping on Abigael’s toes while also following the rhythm of the song.

“Look at me,” Abigael whispered. Mel did and her breath caught in her throat. Abigael’s eyes were so deep, sparkling, happy and alight as they stared into Mel’s own. “You’re doing fine, don’t overthink it.”

Mel wanted to say something, to defend herself or point out that she wasn’t a good dancer, but with how intensely Abigael looked at her, all words left her mind and all she could do was stare back.

The music faded into a faraway lull; the rest of the world fell away. There were only the two of them. She didn’t even know she was moving; her body followed every single little pull and push of Abigael’s hands seemingly of its own accord. She felt light, like she could fly, like she as flying. Her mind refused to work, to think, and yet, she was laser-focused on Abigael’s eyes so deep and soulful, with specks of gold and dark brown among the hazel. She focused on the line of her button nose that looked so cute even when she donned her terrifying frown; the high cut of her cheekbones now accented with light pink of a blush, almost indistinguishable on her soft, pale skin. Her lips, dark pink and soft-looking, slightly parted, their corners lifted the tiniest bit in a smile that was so beautiful and so genuine it made Mel’s breath catch in her throat. She wanted to kiss those lips, taste that smile on her tongue, bury her hands in that dark, wavy mane and see if the feeling that she was flying would go away or get stronger.

Lost in the hazel of Abigael’s eyes, Mel didn’t realise how close they were until she felt hot breath hit her lips. There was barely an inch separating them now, she was a single push away from the knowledge, the sensation of Abigael’s mouth on hers.

The song stopped and loud cheers broke all around them. Abigael halted their movements but she didn’t let her hands fall, didn’t let her eyes move from Mel’s despite the loud, almost jarring hooting and whistling. But then she did look away and Mel felt as if a spell was lifted from her at that moment, like she could control her body again, like the world around her came crashing back into place.

Jordan was hooting and clapping from his spot in front of the TV, and Maggie joined in with him with an occasional wolf-whistle thrown in between. Macy and Harry were watching them, wrapped around each other but with similar serious expressions on their faces.

“What do you say now, Princess? Am I a better dancer than Harold and your sister?” Abigael asked. The small smirk on her lips was only half-teasing and her eyes were darker and heavier than they usually were when she was trying to rile Mel up. This was different somehow.

Swallowing around a lump that suddenly formed in her throat when she realised how close they were and how warm Abigael’s hands were on her, Mel tightened her grip on Abigael’s hand and moved just a bit closer. Closer to the warmth, to the scent of vanilla and spice, closer to the temptation that she feared she would not have the resolve to deny much longer.

“Maybe I need a little more convincing,” Mel said, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t want Abigael to go yet, she didn’t want this to end. She finally wasn’t alone, watching happiness and connection from afar, she finally had it for herself, and she didn’t want to give that up.

Abigael looked around the room then. Her shoulders stiffened under Mel’s touch and her body tensed as if she just now realised that they had an audience. She opened her mouth, probably to protest if the furrow in her brows was anything to go by, but Maggie cut her off.

“Yeah! Let’s see how good you are with rumba!”

Abigael smirked confidently at that. “Do you really underestimate me that much, Perky Peanut?”

“Okay, then. Salsa!”

“No,” Mel protested instantly, letting go of Abigael’s hand. Memories of how they had learnt that dance in the classes she had taken and how much she had hated the sexist, entitled daddy’s boy she had been partnered up with flooded her brain. She hated salsa.

“Why not? You took classes with me, you know how to dance!”

“I don’t!”

Abigael leaned closer until her breath tickled the shell of Mel’s ear. “I think you did much better than either Harold or your sister.”

“I’m not dancing salsa!”

“Well then,” Abigael’s hands fell from Mel’s body and so did all her warmth. “Perhaps I should retire for the night.”

“Oh, no!” Maggie declared. She found her phone and put on another song, then she marched up to Abigael. “You’re dancing.”

“Mel doesn’t want to—”

“Not with Mel.” There was a challenge in Maggie’s eyes, and stubbornness.

Abigael looked surprised as she turned to Mel, as if she was looking for guidance. The expression soon changed into one of confidence, though, and Abigael stepped to Maggie, hands out in a practised stance.

Maggie grinned. They nodded at each other and started dancing, their movements fluid and precise, similar and completely unlike when Abigael danced with Mel. They moved around each other, Abigael quickly took lead and Maggie followed her, and a wide smile broke on her face when she realised that Abigael indeed knew how to dance.

Mel smiled at them, trying to wrestle down the strange feeling that rose in her, as if she swallowed heavy smoke and burning embers. She recognised it for what it was—jealousy. She knew there was no reason for it, Maggie was madly in love with Jordan, she wouldn’t go after Abigael, and Abigael was… not that it mattered, Mel had no right to be jealous, Abigael wasn’t hers. Sure, they talked a lot and they flirted sometimes and that dance was otherworldly, but…

Soon enough, Jordan joined the dance with a slightly awkward but coquito-encouraged and very eager Macy. It ended up with Jordan giving her a crash course on salsa steps, and that took Mel’s attention away from the professional-like twirls and swaying of hips from Abigael and Maggie.

Mel busied herself with getting them refills. She could hear Maggie’s joyful laughter and Macy’s awkward sorries that probably followed after the stepped on Jordan’s feet in the kitchen. It was strange that they didn’t want Abigael with them at first, but she instantly fit with them better than Mel did.

The song changed, but the salsa rhythm kept going and Maggie’s laughter told Mel that the dancing didn’t stop. She had to swallow to push the nasty, burning feeling down.

“That was very clever of her,” came Harry’s voice. She found him leaning against the table, looking back into the living room. “Maggie, I mean. Challenging Abigael is one of the best ways to get her to do something.”

Mel nodded, letting out a noncommittal sound, and went back to pouring the coquito.

“I think you’d better get back there,” Harry remarked after a short while.

Mel shrugged. “It’s not like they need me.”

“I think they do. I’m pretty sure Abigael would like to dance with you again.”

“She has Maggie.”

Harry hummed. “She doesn’t even look at Maggie, not really. Not like she was looking at you.”

Unable to keep her curiosity at bay, Mel peeked out through the archway. They were still twirling around each other, steps perfectly timed and confident, going off of each other, but true to Harry’s words, Abigael’s eyes weren’t on Maggie. She was looking around, almost like she was searching for something, and when she did look at Maggie, it was with that cocky confidence and teasing. Not the way she was looking at Mel at all.

“It looks like Maggie’s peace offering worked,” Harry commented. When Mel looked at him in confusion, he chuckled. “Don’t tell me you thought she only wanted to dance with Abigael. Maggie all but invited her to stay, and it looks like Abigael accepted.”

As she watched them dance around, she realised that just like Abigael kept looking away, so did Maggie keep looking at Jordan too much to have really wanted to dance with Abigael. Her doing that was nothing more than her accepting Abigael’s company, for their stay in the cabin and perhaps even after that. She didn’t want Abigael to herself, she just wanted everyone to know that she was okay with having her with them.

“Why don’t you go save her from your sister and I’ll take care of the refills?” Harry offered.

“Thank you, Harry. But I’ve got this. I think you’d better go save Jordan from your wife, though. Not sure he’ll be able to walk tomorrow.”

“She’s not—” Harry started protesting, but he was cut off by another loud ‘sorry’ from Macy and Jordan’s slightly pained ‘don’t worry about it’. “I see what you mean.”

She watched as he walked over to where Macy and Jordan were trying to twirl in the rhythm of the song, then she turned back to the coquito. She filled the last glass much faster than she wanted to. She leaned onto the counter and let out a heavy sigh. She didn’t feel like going back there; she didn’t want to watch Maggie dance around and give Abigael a better time than Mel ever could. She was awkward on the dancefloor, she had almost no musical talent, and someone who could dance with such effortless elegance as Abigael certainly enjoyed dancing.

Mel eyed the bottle of rum that was still sitting on the counter. Maggie always had the bad habit of forgetting to put things back in their place. But Mel could use the alcohol about now, maybe the burn of the rum would make her forget the burn of jealousy.

Without thinking, Mel grabbed a glass and poured herself a double shot. She downed it, grimacing a little at the taste. It was much stronger than what she was used to. Another glance at the bottle confirmed it. 67%. God, what had she drank?

Quickly taking a sip of the coquito to dull the burn of alcohol, Mel shuddered. Perhaps that wasn’t the best course of action for her.

“Hey,” came a soft voice that made her jump in surprise. Abigael was standing in the archway, eyes laser-focused and dark with concern. “You all right?”

“Yea—” Mel croaked. She cleared her throat, hoping to lessen the taste of rum, then she turned to face Abigael. “Yeah. Just getting more coquito.”

Abigael looked back over her shoulder for a second. “I don’t think they need more.”

Mel followed her gaze to where Macy and Harry were swaying in the smallest circles to the music, now some slow love song, faces so close their cheeks brushed, and Maggie and Jordan waltzing around the room with her head on his shoulder and barely any space left between them. None of them looked like they needed a drink, unlike Mel.

It was quiet for a moment. Mel went back to the drinks, busing herself with placing the glasses onto the tray, trying to find anything that would make her stop fidgeting and feeling the strange cluster of emotions that now resided heavily in her belly. Or maybe it was the rum, she wasn’t sure.

Even through the music, she could hear the slow, deliberate pat-pat-pat of Abigael’s feet on the tiled floor, until she could feel her presence and warmth maybe an inch behind her, maybe less. Mel’s back straightened instinctively and she sucked in a breath of anticipation. Then, Abigael long, slender fingers gently squeezed on Mel’s arm, the touch burned more than the rum had.

“I seem to recall that you wanted more proof of my ability to dance,” Abigael murmured low in her throat. The words tickled at the back of Mel’s neck and made her shudder.

“You proved that enough with Maggie,” Mel found herself saying, somewhat breathlessly.

“Are you jealous, Princess?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“There’s no need for that,” Abigael said, ignoring Mel’s half-hearted protests. Her other hand fell onto Mel’s shoulder and pushed her hair back a bit, and she shifted until Mel could feel Abigael’s front pressing ever-so-slightly into her back. “You’re the only person I want in my arms.”

“What are you doing?”

“I—I don’t think I can name it just yet,” Abigael’s voice was soft as she said it, almost pleading.

Mel nodded a little. “Okay.”

“Dance with me?”

“I’m pretty buzzed, I’ll step on your toes.”

With a gentle pull, Abigael got Mel to turn around and face her. “What’s pleasure without a little pain?”

Mel chuckled at that. Her body followed willingly when Abigael pulled her that much closer, her skin tingled with heat where Abigael’s hand rested on her lower back and her feet moved as soon as Abigael applied the softest pressure. Abigael’s movements were as fluid and graceful as before, but they lacked the technical precision. The steps were still perfectly timed, but now it felt more effortless, as if she didn’t even know that she was leading Mel around the kitchen in small circles.

“How are you so good at that?” Mel asked after a while.

Abigael’s eyes darkened a little and she looked to the side for a moment. “I’ve had to attend dance classes since I was ten and gala events since I was fifteen. Mother said dancing and talking with those old men was a good practice of negotiating. She wasn’t necessarily wrong, but it still was rather unpleasant.”

“Dancing, talking up old men and checking reports on Christmas Eve? Being a businesswoman seems like a pain in the ass” Mel remarked

“Indeed. You could make it better, though.”

“Me? How?”

“Well,” Abigael leaned closer until her breath tickled the shell of Mel’s ear. “You could join me for my next gala.”

Mel pulled back a little. Abigael was looking at her with a confident smirk and uncertainty in her hazel eyes, her lower lip caught nervously, adorably, between her teeth. “You mean as in—”

“Be my date, yes.”

“I…I can’t dance,” Mel protested quietly.

“You’re doing rather well,” Abigael let a small smile grace her lips.

“What would I even do there? I don’t know how to talk to handsy, old men.”

“You know how to tell them to stop being handsy.” This time, Abigael full-on smirked. “And it would make my investors scared to know that I have willingly chosen to bring a spitfire to a charity gala.”

Mel chuckled at that. Telling old men to go screw themselves and hanging off of Abigael’s arm like some eye-candy didn’t seem like a good evening. But spending time with Abigael, talking to her, and getting to see her being the badass CEO certainly did seem interesting. Abigael had always kept her work life separate from her hobby of annoying Mel at every opportunity, and her willingly offering to join those two parts of her world seemed like a big thing.

Almost as big as that which neither of them could name just yet.

“Okay,” Mel said finally, so lost in Abigael’s eyes that she didn’t even see the world around them, “but you’ll have to give me a crash course on dancing. I can only do the waltz and maybe rumba, and even that’s shaky.”

Abigael grinned so wide she showed her teeth. “It would be my pleasure.”

Mel let out another chuckle, tipping her head back a bit. Abigael’s smile fell and a different expression overtook her face, heavy and all but mesmerised, dark eyes shifting between Mel’s lips and eyes. She didn’t know when they inched closer or how long it took them, she just knew she could feel Abigael’s breath on her face and the ghost of her kiss on her lips.

A clearing of a throat broke them apart. Harry stood in the archway, looking somewhere between awkward and determined. “Excuse me, ladies. Could I trouble you for a dance, Abigael?”

“Are you sure your wife won’t mind?”

“She will be all right for a few moments.”

“Fine,” Abigael said with a theatrical sigh. Then she looked at Mel, a strange mix of confident smirk and happy smile on her lips. “I will be back for you, Princess.”

Mel all but showed her at Harry, laughing as she did. Maybe it was the rum settling in her head, or the heat she still could feel in her lips from their almost-kiss, but Mel was sure this Christmas would be one of her favourites for a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's it from me! I hope you liked the story! Let me know what you think in the comments or come yell at me here:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://justalittlewritingnerd.tumblr.com/)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CathrineCBlack/)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/cat.c.black/)
> 
> I wish you all a happy new year! May your wishes come true and may we get a kickass new season of Charmed where Hacy, Verachase and Abimel are confirmed as canon. 
> 
> I hate you all, hoomans!


End file.
